Making Up
by PoseurMuch
Summary: Some McChekov smut. Slash, obviously. Chekov and McCoy have a tiff, and when Pavel comes to make it up with Bones, smut occurs. Some bondage, blindfolding. Star Trek tos or 2009, whatever floats your boat. Sexy times. My first ST fic on here, be kind. M for sex.


McCoy turned around in slight irritation as the door beeped, informing him someone wanted entry. The irritation subsided though, when the door slid open without him having to grant access, informing him it was his boyfriend (?) Pavel Chekov, who knew the entry code.

If it was Pavel it couldn't be bad, at least that's what he told himself. They'd had some.. relationship troubles, recently, and wasn't entirely sure if Pavel had come in to make up or dump him officially. Pavel's face was hard to read straight away, as he strode across the small room and stood next to Bones as he typed away at his Padd. 'Erm.. Leonard. I would like to talk to you?'

'Fire away Pavel' answered McCoy, sensing uncertainty, but not anger. 'I'm wery sorry for what I said last night. I would like to apologize greatly for th-'

'Cut the formality, kid, I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have overreacted when you said those things and I'm quite happy to go on as things were be-' This time it was McCoy who was cut of by a pair of lips and a small body straddling his lap. 'Zis it normal for us, yes?' smirked Chekov, as McCoy wrapped his arms closer around the lithe Russians waist, pulling him to the bed, smiling.

Unusually, it was Pavel initiating this, and it was him to started stripping off, reprimanding Leonard for trying to take off his own shirt. 'Nyet!' was the rasped word. 'You vill watch'. McCoy would rather it was Pavel watching as he sat there, unable to touch himself as Pavel started pumping himself in front of him. After a bit of that sweet torture, Chekov leant over McCoy, brushing their crotches together, all the while whispering things that must mean something Goddamned dirty in Russian into his ear. Hitching up the doctors shirt, he pulled it over his head so he couldn't see and brought his head further down, so his warm breath tickled his erect nipples, before biting and suckling them gently. McCoy arched into Pavel's body, unable to see but all the more turned on for it. He couldn't see what Pavel was doing but he could feel him shifting off him and then coming back, hopefully bearing lube. Something was set down on the side and McCoys shirt was secured more tightly over his eyes and his tightening trousers were taken off him, to his relief. A cold, slightly clammy hand was placed on him, warming up very quickly with the contact. The hand didn't move, and when Bones tried to buck up against it it was removed 'Pasha.. God..' he breathed with annoyance. The hand came back, covered in warmed lube, and it pumped him, once, twice, to coat him fully. Not enough for a man of 30 to get off too, but enough to make him wish he didn't have that stamina. Still, his relief came quickly, as his lover turned over and hovered just above him, his back flexing an incredible amount as he balanced on one hand and stretched himself.

He lowered himself onto his boyfriends now aching cock, and after a small, teasing period of just feeling the fullness, he started to move, riding him on the tiny Starfleet issue bed, moaning incoherently in Russian, so that even if McCoy had been aware enough to hear, he wouldn't have understood. Bones could just about rip the shirt off his face so he could see enough to wrap his hands around Pavel and watch as he came, tightening around him so that as Chekov rode his orgasm, Len was with him.

And as they lay together in a post-sex haze, he could see enough to watch his Pasha's lips move, and hear enough to hear him whisper 'Ya lyublyu tebya', some of the only Russian McCoy could recognise.

'I love you too Pasha'

McCoy turned around in slight irritation as the door beeped, informing him someone wanted entry. The irritation subsided though, when the door slid open without him having to grant access, informing him it was his boyfriend (?) Pavel Chekov, who knew the entry code.

If it was Pavel it couldn't be bad, at least that's what he told himself. They'd had some.. relationship troubles, recently, and wasn't entirely sure if Pavel had come in to make up or dump him officially. Pavel's face was hard to read straight away, as he strode across the small room and stood next to Bones as he typed away at his Padd. 'Erm.. Leonard. I would like to talk to you?'

'Fire away Pavel' answered McCoy, sensing uncertainty, but not anger. 'I'm wery sorry for what I said last night. I would like to apologize greatly for th-'

'Cut the formality, kid, I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have overreacted when you said those things and I'm quite happy to go on as things were be-' This time it was McCoy who was cut of by a pair of lips and a small body straddling his lap. 'Zis it normal for us, yes?' smirked Chekov, as McCoy wrapped his arms closer around the lithe Russians waist, pulling him to the bed, smiling.

Unusually, it was Pavel initiating this, and it was him to started stripping off, reprimanding Leonard for trying to take off his own shirt. 'Nyet!' was the rasped word. 'You vill watch'. McCoy would rather it was Pavel watching as he sat there, unable to touch himself as Pavel started pumping himself in front of him. After a bit of that sweet torture, Chekov leant over McCoy, brushing their crotches together, all the while whispering things that must mean something Goddamned dirty in Russian into his ear. Hitching up the doctors shirt, he pulled it over his head so he couldn't see and brought his head further down, so his warm breath tickled his erect nipples, before biting and suckling them gently. McCoy arched into Pavel's body, unable to see but all the more turned on for it. He couldn't see what Pavel was doing but he could feel him shifting off him and then coming back, hopefully bearing lube. Something was set down on the side and McCoys shirt was secured more tightly over his eyes and his tightening trousers were taken off him, to his relief. A cold, slightly clammy hand was placed on him, warming up very quickly with the contact. The hand didn't move, and when Bones tried to buck up against it it was removed 'Pasha.. God..' he breathed with annoyance. The hand came back, covered in warmed lube, and it pumped him, once, twice, to coat him fully. Not enough for a man of 30 to get off too, but enough to make him wish he didn't have that stamina. Still, his relief came quickly, as his lover turned over and hovered just above him, his back flexing an incredible amount as he balanced on one hand and stretched himself.

He lowered himself onto his boyfriends now aching cock, and after a small, teasing period of just feeling the fullness, he started to move, riding him on the tiny Starfleet issue bed, moaning incoherently in Russian, so that even if McCoy had been aware enough to hear, he wouldn't have understood. Bones could just about rip the shirt off his face so he could see enough to wrap his hands around Pavel and watch as he came, tightening around him so that as Chekov rode his orgasm, Len was with him.

And as they lay together in a post-sex haze, he could see enough to watch his Pasha's lips move, and hear enough to hear him whisper 'Ya lyublyu tebya', some of the only Russian McCoy could recognise.

'I love you too Pasha'


End file.
